


Eleven

by Shad0w_V4rgr



Series: Borderlands Writings [1]
Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Comfort, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Torture, Loss, Physical Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 10:15:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27469348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shad0w_V4rgr/pseuds/Shad0w_V4rgr
Summary: One year after the death of her husband, Helena Pierce makes a shocking discovery in the wastelands of Pandora. Another lost and damaged soul, in dire need of salvation.
Series: Borderlands Writings [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1729078





	Eleven

**Author's Note:**

> A short origin story for my Original Character, Rowley. Set 10 years before the events of Borderlands 1.

There was always another job to do. 

Helena Pierce, administrator of the Pandoran settlement of Haven, knew this better than anyone. Pandora was a planet at the very edges of Human civilisation; literally and metaphorically. Considering its violent reputation and harsh natural environment, settling on the barren planet took a small miracle and _a lot_ of hard work. 

There was always another job to do.

Providing clean water was of the upmost importance. The only functional water purifier in town needed repairs more often than not. What little food that could be scraped together needed to be kept track of, so that every civilian had an equal share. Regular scouting parties had to be organized. Brave men and women sent out to scavenge supplies for the town; be it food or tools. The town had to be defensible, against the hunger of Pandora’s wildlife or if the local bandits felt bolder than usual. 

There was _always_ another job to do…

So why today, of all days, was there _nothing_ to be done. 

Helena Pierce had been pacing her office for the better half of the morning. Overseeing Haven was a job she took very seriously. She was fully committed to the continued survival of the people, though not everyone approved of having a woman in charge. Her strict and professional attitude made her difficult to get along with. But behind her stern exterior lay much pain.

Helena’s eyes avoided the photo frame on her desk until guilt forced her to cave in. Her dearly departed husband, whom she had lost a year ago today, smiled at her from the still image. She kept the photo on her desk to keep him close, yet it brought her no comfort. Seeing him caused an ache in her chest that could only be described as ‘emptiness’. 

She missed him, greatly. 

Helena had experienced many hardships on Pandora. The loss of a limb. The butchery of the left side of her face. The daily burdens of survival. But nothing had hit her harder than the loss of the man she loved. After his death, she had taken over his role of administrator. It was a full-time job, demanding attention day and night. A blessing in disguise, as it was a distraction from her grief.

Helena finally stopped pacing. 

“I miss you…” She said to the photo, in a moment of weakness.

There was an unexpected knock at the door. Helena instantly regained her composure. 

“Come in.” She said aloud.

A middle-aged man, square-built and balding, timidly entered the room. 

“Warren.” Helena addressed him, both hands held behind her back. “Something to report?” 

“Yes Ma’am. I took a scouting party out to the dunes, like you asked.”

“And?”

“We found the wreckage of a ship.” 

“I’d offer you congratulations Warren, but the surface of Pandora is covered in the wreckages of space crafts.” Helena said matter-of-factly. 

“I know that Ma’am, but this one is recent. Like, several days old.” Warren replied. “The ship itself is fucked, but there’s a lot on board that can still be salvaged. Clean water, food, medicines and stuff.”

“Very well.” Helena nodded in approval. “At last, some good news. Thank you for informing me.” 

“That’s not all…There’s something you need to see. Something inside the ship.” Warren said gravely.

“Are there survivors?” Helena asked with a tone of urgency. 

“I think…I think it’ll be easier to simply show you, Ma’am.”

\----

At the site of the recent crash, Helena and Warren joined the scouting party. The space craft was a small vessel, almost broken in two, with one half buried in the sand. The landing had been a rough one. Survivors were unlikely. There was no name on the outside of the ship, no indication to whom it belonged. 

“Alright everyone, let’s make this quick. We’re sitting ducks out here.” Helena didn’t spare a moment for pleasantries. “Warren, show me what you found. You two come with us. The rest of you stay outside and keep watch. First sight of any threats, alert us immediately.” 

Out in the open dunes the group were prime targets for attack. It was only a matter of time before bandits became aware of the wreckage and would also seek to raid it for supplies. 

Helena and the three men entered the half of the space craft that was above the sand, and still moderately intact. Warren took the lead, having already explored the wreckage earlier. Dim lights offered just enough luminance for their path to be comfortably visible; reserve power was active despite the state of the ship. At the end of what was once a corridor, stood a set of doors wedged open by debris. The semi closed doors concealed a large room which appeared to have been a lab of sorts. It was filled with research and medical equipment, data consoles and empty containment cells. Oddly, there was no sign of any bodies. 

“Right over here Ma’am.” 

Warren lead Helena to the far end of the room where there were rows of containment cells bolted to the metal floor. Assumingly used to house the test subjects who belonged to whichever corporation owned this vessel. Warren stopped and pointed to a small cage, the only one with its door still locked tight.

Helena approached the cage and peered dubiously between the dented metal bars. Inside, huddled in the corner and sitting in his own filth, was a child. A boy, no older than seven. He was severely malnourished; every bone under his sickly pale and bruised skin was visible. His ginger hair was matted and overgrown. His nails were long and thick, more closely resembling claws. 

“My God...” Helena covered her mouth and nose, a combination of shock and as protection from the foul smell secreting from the cage.

“He’s the only survivor.” Warren stood at her side. “Everyone else on board died in the crash. We found bodies in other parts of the wreckage. Most of them had lab coats on so I’m guessing they were doctors or scientists.” 

“Cruelly ironic.” Helena studied the outside of the cage which had been heavily damaged by debris. “The bars that are keeping him locked up likely saved his life.”

“How long you reckon he’s been in there?” Warren asked, merely to keep the conversation going. 

“I can’t begin to imagine. The state he’s in…clearly, he’s been locked away for a very long time. There’s a food bowl inside the cage. They were treating him like an animal.”

Helena crouched down, looking at the boy with pity. He gazed outwards with bright and alert green eyes; observing the new faces.

“Those damned corporations...” Helena said with disgust. “Always trying to further their gains, even at the cost of human lives.”

“I’ve heard the rumours of certain corporations buying slaves to use for their research. You know, human test subjects. Didn’t think they stoop low enough to use children though.” Warren said in hushed tone.

“It’s barbaric.” Helena asserted, reaching for a tag that had been secured to the cage.

****_Subject Number – 11_  
Sex – Male  
Age – 7 Years Old 

“Seven years old…have you really been locked up like this for seven years?” Helena asked softly. 

There was not a single doubt in her mind what the next course of action would be. This child needed her help, and she had never been the type of woman to turn away from helping those in need. 

“We’re taking him with us.” She said decidedly. 

“Are you sure about that Ma’am?” Warren gave her a look of concern. “What if he’s diseased, or rabid or-”

“We’re NOT leaving him to die in there Warren.” Helena cut him off, internally furious at his lack of compassion. 

“I wasn’t suggesting leaving him in there Ma’am. I figured we should just put him out of his misery.” 

“This isn’t up for discussion.” Helena snapped. “Now find a way to get this cage open. We’re taking him with us.”

\----

Getting the child out of the cage had been no easy task. He was frightened and had resulted to biting and scratching every time someone got a hold of him. 

The next ordeal had been getting him back to Haven. In the end the group had muzzled him with a piece of cloth to stop him from biting. Then dragged him, kicking and flailing about, back to the safety of the town. During their journey back to Haven, Helena noticed how the child had calmed somewhat at the sight of the open sky filled with stars. 

Now in Helena’s office, the two were alone. Helena had ordered the other men to leave, in hope that the boy would feel less threatened and settle down quicker. The red-haired child had taken refuge under Helena’s desk. He clearly felt safer there than out in the open.

Since getting him out of the wreckage, Helena was able to get a better look at the state the child was in. It was no less horrifying that what she saw back in the dimly lit space craft. The shackles binding his wrists had embedded into his skin. They would likely leave horrific scars when removed and healed. The boy had also been branded, much like how cattle are branded with hot irons. The number _11_ was marked into the skin on the back of his left hand. 

This wasn’t a simple case of neglect; it was inhuman cruelty. 

Helena knelt in front of her desk, putting herself at the boy’s eye level. 

“I know you can’t speak, but you can understand me, can’t you?”

The boy stared at her; his eyes were void of all emotion. His actions demonstrated how terrified he was, yet his face displayed no expression. 

“Don’t be afraid.” Pierce reached out her hand. “You’re safe here.”

She wanted to comfort the child, but he whimpered and withdrew further under the desk. A safe place.

“My name is Helena Pierce.” Helena said to him, undismayed. “I assume whoever it was that kept you locked up didn’t even have the decency to name you. You’ll need a name if you’re going to live here with us.”

Helena found herself face to face with the picture of her husband, still smiling at her from atop the desk. For the first time she smiled back at him, with renewed purpose. 

“Rowley.” She said tenderly, looking back at the anxious child. “That’s the name my husband and I chose for a child. If ever we had a boy.” 

Helena moved closer, and sat cross-legged on the floor, so that she was almost underneath the desk herself. This time, the newly named Rowley did not shuffle away. 

“I think it suits you perfectly...” Helena smiled at him.

Rowley did not respond with any sound or change in facial expression. Although, the smallest of glimmers in his intelligent eyes subsequently revealed that he was more than an empty shell. 

\----

One year later, Rowley was sat in the same position under the desk. A pencil in one hand and a notebook resting against his legs. When he was finished marking the paper, Rowley crawled out from under the desk. He silently handed the notebook to an expectant Helena, who had been waiting patiently for him to finish. 

Helena knelt beside the boy and took the notebook from him. Her eyes studied the paper and she smiled, satisfied with what she saw.

“Incredible Rowley. Absolutely incredible. Well done!” She praised the boy. 

Helena had prepared handwritten sentences for him to copy, and Rowley had copied them perfectly. He had even duplicated her handwriting. 

Since bringing the boy back to Haven, Helena had begun teaching him to read and write, as well as how to understand spoken language. Rowley had made amazing progress in such a short amount of time. He was extremely intelligent and quick to pick up new things. Always alert and attentive; he was eager to learn. Helena was proud of his progress and felt accomplished with what she had done for him. She had saved an innocent child’s life, given him a home and was now raising him; teaching him how to become human again. The next task would be getting him to speak. But the greatest obstacle of all was to help Rowley overcome his immense fear of physical contact. He was completely and utterly terrified of being touched. This was likely the result of his maltreatment. 

Helena and Rowley had bonded during their short time together; their relationship had become akin to a mother and her son. Rowley now trusted Helena enough to allow proximity. The two were sat within arm’s reach of each other, and Rowley appeared to be comfortable with this. It was the closest they had ever been for an extended period of time. Compared to a year ago where he would lash out at anyone who came within two meters of him. 

This moment was special. Helena decided to take a gamble, much like she had done many times before, fully expecting the same disheartening result. She cautiously moved her hand towards the boy’s wiry arm. And while her hand inched closer, Rowley’s fearful eyes followed. 

“It’s alright Rowley…everything is going to be fine.” She assured him, as her fingertips reached his pale skin. 

Rowley’s breathing became ragged the moment he felt her touch, but this time he did not jolt away. In turn, Helena gently wrapped her fingers around his arm and began to brush her thumb repeatedly over his quivering skin. 

Much to her surprise, Helena’s delicate action had comforted the boy and eased his anxiety. She felt relieved, and emotionally moved, by how this simple act displayed the child’s trust in her. 

“You see Rowley? _A hand…touch_ …they don’t always have to mean pain.”


End file.
